


Why

by Bre



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: 4x09 speculation, Angst, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Pain, Season/Series 04, Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 20:41:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5389538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bre/pseuds/Bre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Speculation fic for 4x09 "Dark Waters" (with references to 4x08)</p><p>“Unfortunately, it will be very difficult for your daughter to conceive in the future, Mrs. Smoak… if ever.</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why

**Author's Note:**

> The angst we’re going to get is killing me in the best way possible. And then Margaret (teawhovian/TeaWithLemon) sent me an email that got the wheels turning because she’s part evil genius and part mad genius.

He was numb.

He didn’t feel the worn cushion of the chair he sat in, or the hard metal armrests digging into his elbows. He didn’t feel the linoleum under his red-splattered shoes or the soft chilly breeze when nurses and doctors strode past him. He didn’t react when they ran by or when large groups of people trundled around him, looking for a room, or when a nurse asked if he was okay.

He didn’t hear the anchorwoman on the television in the corner of the waiting room at the end of the hallway, or the sputtering of the old coffee machine in the corner struggling to spit out one more cup.

He didn’t see the flurry of colored scrubs, or the bright purple poster on the opposite wall that he stared blindly at, or the dried blood still under his fingernails.

 _Her_  blood.

It was always her blood - why was it always her blood on his hands, why was it always her who had to pay the price?

Oliver stared at the wall.

_“… the bullets did significant damage, Mrs. Smoak…”_

_“… lucky to be alive, she’s fighting very hard…”_

_“… missed her spinal cord, which is good news, although two of the bullets lacerated her liver and we had to remove one of her kidneys…”_

_“… the ovary wasn’t…”_

_“… substantial blood loss…”_

_“… severed tube…”_

_“… saved what we could…”_

_“Unfortunately, it will be very difficult for your daughter to conceive in the future, Mrs. Smoak… if ever._

_“I’m sorry.”_

He couldn’t feel anything; he couldn’t think, he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t  _do_  anything. He just…  _was_.

He didn’t feel his lungs barely filling with the stuttered gasps of air he took, or the nervous tic he hadn’t had since their during their road trip, or the hole in his shoulder from the bullet that had torn through his muscle and cartilage.

_“If ever.”_

The words echoed through him.

_Ever._

She could never have children…  _they_  could never have children, not together.

Some part of him felt it, felt the reality slowly sinking in -  _drowning him_.

He felt it… but it was far away, so far away. The entire night was far away. He’d just gotten her back, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. She wasn’t supposed to almost slip through his fingers  _again_.

Oliver blinked.

He’d just wanted to do the right thing.

And now…

For the first time since he’d heard the doctor, Oliver felt  _something_.

He felt like throwing up.

“Oliver?”

Donna’s voice sliced through him and he jerked in the seat, looking up wildly.

“Is she…?” he asked, his voice cracking as he shoved himself up out of the chair, his eyes already sliding past her to Felicity’s room, as if she’d be right there, waiting for him, smiling and perfect and  _whole_. But the doorway was empty, dark; he could see the faint shadow of the machines lit up next to her bed - her heartbeat, slow and steady - her supine body still in there, still unconscious.

No…

No, she wasn’t…

Oliver’s face crinkled, his eyes slipping shut as Donna whispered, “She’s not awake.”

He nodded quickly, squeezing his eyes shut to keep the tears at bay.

They burned, the salt tearing through his already ravaged skin as more welled, because for a quick second, he’d felt…

 _Hope_.

Hope that maybe this was a bad dream, that he’d wake up, that this entire day hadn’t happened, that the entire week hadn’t happened, that… that they were back to when things were simple and perfect and  _good_ , and he wasn’t…

Just  _hope_ , because everything had been  _perfect_ , and now it was gone, just like that, leaving him with nothing but a vast expanse of grief, pain… horror, anger… and  _guilt_.

_Oh god, not this, anything but this, please…_

Oliver inhaled quickly.

“Oliver.” Donna’s hand landed on his shoulder, squeezing him gently, pulling him back to the present. “Sit down.”

He scrubbed his face, shoving his fingers against his eyes before nodding again, doing as she said. She sat down next to him, both their chairs having a perfect view into her room.

He felt like he was moving in slow motion, like a thousand tiny weights were tied to him, pulling him down until there was nowhere else to go.

He sat heavily, his eyes on her where she laid.

On his fiancée.

On the love of his life, the  _light_  of life, the reason.

She was the reason, his reason…

He hadn’t gone in there, just yet.

His fingers ached to feel hers - he wanted to hold her hand, slip his fingers through hers, hold her tightly,  _anchor her_. He wanted her to know he was there, that he wasn’t going anywhere, that he loved her… and that he  _needed_  her, that he needed her to come back to him, that he needed her to  _be there_ , with him again, that this was something they could get through.

God, he just needed her to tell him it was okay, that it’d be okay. He  _needed_  her to tell him it’d be okay, that  _they’d_  be okay.

_Not this._

Oliver felt like throwing up.

_Please…_

“She’s strong,” Donna said, her voice wavering with her own tears. She tugged the sleeves of her jacket down to cover her hands, nodding absently as she stared into Felicity’s room. “She’s the strongest person I know, she’ll be fine.”

“Yeah,” was all he could manage.

She was the strongest person he knew too. She was so strong, so much better than all of them… he couldn’t do this without her, he needed her here, because he couldn’t face this without her, he couldn’t be the reason why she didn’t… why she couldn’t…

He couldn’t stop the tears this time and the one that slipped down his cold cheek was like acid.

Oliver wiped it away, wincing at how raw his skin was.

He’d been crying, since the second he’d seen her in the limo, since he’d looked over and seen the damage, since he’d pulled her into his arms, trying to stem the blood -  _so much blood, god, it was everywhere, everywhere, she was covered in it_  - her eyes already growing glassy with blood loss, losing some of their blue as she’d stammered out his name, her blood-stained fingers reaching out to touch him.

They’d barely gotten there in time, just barely… but they had.

But then…

“I’m sorry,” Oliver croaked, shaking his head as he shifted in the chair, needing to move but not being able to, not  _wanting_  to. God, his stomach was churning, twisting in knots - he wanted to get up and scream just as much as he wanted to lie down and just…  _stop._  His eyes slid to her room, to his Felicity, and tears blurred his vision. “I’m sorry.”

“No.” Donna sat up, reaching over to take his hand. Her skin was as cold as his was as she gripped him tightly, squeezing with emphasis as she said, “This isn’t your fault.”

God, she had no idea.

A lifeless chuckle slipped past his lips.

“Oliver, it’s not…” She took a fortifying breath, her voice filled with sorrow. “I’m the one who’s sorry, because this… this is… I never wanted this for my baby,” she finished in a whisper, shaking her head. Oliver’s chest cracked, glancing over to find her staring into the room, her nails digging into his palm. “She never talked about kids, you know? Not until she met you at least.”

His heart stopped.

“What?” he whispered.

Donna let out a little laugh, wiping her eyes before looking back at him. “She didn’t say the words, Oliver, but I could see it, especially when she was around your friend’s little girl… Sara, right?”

He just stared at her, barely hearing her over the rush of white noise in his head, feeling like his chest was caving in on itself as his stomach dropped.

“It was the way Felicity looked at her, especially when you held her,” Donna said, nodding, looking back into the room, a tight, pained smile on her lips. “She got that wistful look in her eye, you know? Like when she saw a… a really amazing computer, or something.” She laughed, the sound ending in a soft sob. “I don’t know, that’s… I was never good with the technical part of… anything, really.”

Donna stared into the room for a beat and then she looked back at Oliver.

“But when you held that little girl, Oliver, my daughter looked at you like she wanted the entire world and only you had the key.”

The words slammed into his chest.

_God, no…_

Oliver let out a shuddery breath, trying to understand what she was saying…

No, he understood it, but…

“And you look at her the same way,” Donna said with a large smile.

_Please, not this…_

“We hadn’t really… talked about it,” Oliver whispered.

He felt like throwing up.

Because everything was so  _wrong_  now, it was so wrong, how did it get so wrong?

He made a tight fist with his free hand, shivering as his mind started venturing to the one corner he refused to look into.

Not yet.

He couldn’t, not yet.

Instead… his eyes slid back to her room.

“The first time I realized I was in love with her was when Sara was born.”

Donna stayed silent, watching him, and he almost wished she’d stop him because he couldn’t…  _do this_ , he couldn’t do this, but he didn’t stop.

“I knew I loved her,” Oliver said softly. “That I  _had_  loved her, but… it was complicated. And then Sara was born, and we… she got here first, she was already in the room when I get here, and when I saw her with Lyla, with Sara… the way she  _looked_  at her, how…  _perfect_  she was, staring at Sara like she was this… perfect light, and… I wanted that.”

He let out a quiet sob, gritting his teeth as he spoke. He’d never talked about that moment, to anyone, ever, not even Felicity… he might have, when it came up, when they talked about kids, but it hadn’t been the right time… and god, it was only getting worse, so much worse.

“I wanted that with her,” he continued in a whisper, his eyes on Felicity. “I wanted to be with her, and love her like she deserved, be the person she deserved, and… I wanted to have children.” He laughed incredulously. “I imagined little mini-Felicity’s running around, all perfect little replicas of her, because she’s…”

Oliver bowed his head with a muted cry, a tear falling to the ground between his feet.

Donna squeezed his hand tightly… and it forced another cry out of him.

He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut, covering his face as more tears fell.

“Oh Oliver,” Donna whispered, switching hands so she could wrap her arm around his back, laying her head on his shoulder as he started shaking with silent sobs.

How could he tell her now?

Their future had been the one certain thing in his life - his future with Felicity was  _it_. He’d done his penance, he was trying to move on, to finally accept that good things do happen, that they  _can_  happen, and she’d been that good thing, she’d always been that good thing in his life that gave it meaning, that shined light in the darkest corners of his existence and showed him the way out.

They were supposed to get married, they were supposed to have kids, they were supposed to do all the things, every single thing he’d never even dreamed of having a few years ago - they were supposed to get those things, because they’d  _earned_  it, they deserved it, and they  _wanted_ it.

She’d given him a reason to hope for it, for them.

And now…

Now he couldn’t give her a child of her own. He couldn’t  _do_  that for her, not anymore.

And…

And William…

Oliver cried, muffling the cries with his palm, biting his tongue because he didn’t deserve this, he didn’t deserve to grieve like this. He knew, in some rational part of him somewhere, that this wasn’t  _it_ , that there were options, that he could give her so much in other ways…

But how did he tell her he had a child already, with another woman, and instead of telling her, of  _sharing_  that with her, he’d  _lied_. He’d lied to Felicity, to his Felicity, to the one person he couldn’t lie to, he’d looked her in the eye and he’d told her  _nothing._

God, it’d seemed to right at the time, it’d been the right choice, he was sure of it, but now… now he felt like he’d betrayed her, even more, even worse. He’d kept this from her, he’d  _hidden_  it from her, because he’d thought he’d had time. He thought he could fix it, that he could find a way to make it work, to have both worlds, to be in both worlds, to make them  _one._

But he’d run out.

And now he didn’t know what to do.

He’d lost so much while gaining so much and it wasn’t right or fair and he just…

He didn’t know what to do.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/post/134854054299/why-olicity-pre-4x09-fic)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> I needed to vent my emotions about all this stuff in 4x08 and the angst coming in 4x09. That might explain the extremely sporadic nature of this fic. I’ve been seeing so many pregnancy specs going down this road, so I wanted to try this aspect because I hadn’t seen this explored in a fic yet. Thank you for reading!
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


End file.
